


Stockings and Lace: The First Time

by IreneADonovan



Series: Stockings and Lace [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Erik is a Sweetheart, Lace, M/M, Smitten Erik, body image issues, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15414393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Erik teaches Charles to look at himself in a new way...





	Stockings and Lace: The First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkoptics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkoptics/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090625) by [pinkoptics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkoptics/pseuds/pinkoptics). 



“You know I love you, right.” Erik knelt in front of Charles' wheelchair, took Charles' hands in his.

“That's hardly a reassuring way to start a conversation.”

Erik squeezed his hands, kissed them. “It's nothing bad, I promise. I just have this idea, and I don't know how you'll feel about it.”

“Okay,” Charles said warily.

A silvery fabric bag floated across the room and onto Charles' lap. “Open it,” Erik said.

Charles loosened the drawstring, reached inside, felt more fabric, but lacy rather than satiny. He pulled out the bundle and unfolded it.

A pair pf lacy cobalt-blue underpants, a pair of matching thigh-high stockings, and a handful of satin ribbons, also matching. Hunh?

“I'd like you to wear them.”

Charles stared at the lingerie, then at Erik. “Why?”

Erik was silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts. “Maybe I'm crazy, and maybe you'll tell me to take a flying fuck, but I think this could be good for you, good for us.”

Charles said nothing, but kept listening.

Erik took Charles' hands again. “I know you have a hard time letting me look at you, that you're bothered by the way your legs look.”

Charles longed to deny it, but he couldn't.

“You know that's never bothered me – I think you're beautiful, skinny legs and all – but I was hoping this would help you see yourself in a different light.”

“I doubt it will help.” Charles knew his feelings about his legs, his scars, were less than healthy. He'd long since made his peace with the paralysis itself, but not with the way his legs looked – limp, skinny, pale, scarred.

It had taken Charles several weeks to trust Erik enough to bare his legs, and it remained difficult. Erik had been nothing but kind, nothing but patient, nothing but understanding, and he insisted he loved Charles' legs just as much as he loved the rest of him. The least Charles could do was try this for him.

Charles held up the panties. “I'll try them,” he said. “Will you help me into them?”

“Of course.”

Erik followed him into the bedroom, waited and watched as Charles transferred himself to the bed and began to strip. T-shirt first, the easy part. Then he worked his pants down over his hips, down to his thighs. It took a few minutes to get them down low enough to where they would come the rest of the way off.

“May I?” Erik asked quietly.

Charles swallowed nervously. “All right.”

Erik removed his shoes and socks, slid his pants down his legs and over his feet. “Beautiful,” he declared.

“Hardly.”

Erik ran the back of a finger up Charles' left shin, along one of the worse scars. “Beautiful,” he repeated, “and I'll keep saying it until you believe it.”

He took the panties, slipped them over one foot, then the other, pulled them up to Charles' knees. “Hold on to me. I'm going to lift you up.”

Charles looped his arms around Erik's shoulders and held on tight while Erik lifted him. “Will you be good for a minute?” Erik asked.

“Yeah.” It was a little scary, feeling Erik let go, but he knew he could hang on.

He could feel Erik's arms move as he pulled the panties up, then came the brush of Erik's fingers above his hips, then a lingering touch on the scarred skin of his lower back.

He must have flinched a little, because Erik's hand splayed out over his skin. “It's okay. I've got you.”

“It's not that,” Charles admitted.

Erik lowered him to the bed, sank to his knees in front of him, arms still wrapped around him. Charles sighed and relaxed into the embrace.

“This is what I meant,” Erik said, his hand pressing against the scar that slashed down Charles' spine.

“I know.” And he did know, but knowing something and changing it were two totally different things.

“Now why don't you take a look at yourself.” Erik let him go and sat back on his heels, watching expectantly.

Charles looked down. His cock was contained by the vivid blue lace, yet somehow enhanced by it. The scalloped edging arced just below his navel then up over his hipbones; he could just barely feel the pressure of the elastic against his skin.

“Well?”

“Not bad, actually.” In a weird way, he kind of liked it.

Erik smiled. “Good. There's more to come.” He took one of the stockings and slid it over Charles' foot.

If Charles' leg would have obeyed his command, he would have pulled it back. “Erik, I--”

“Shh,” Erik soothed. “I've got you.” He cradled Charles' lower leg in one of those long-fingered, elegant hands that just made his legs look all the uglier.

Charles looked away. He couldn't feel Erik's touch, so if he didn't see it, he could pretend it wasn't happening.

“Charles, look at me. Charles, look at yourself.” There was no anger in Erik's voice, only quiet command.

Charles looked. Erik had drawn the stocking up past his knee and was smoothing the lacy band around his thigh. “Look at this, Charles. You're beautiful.”

“I'm not,” Charles protested. Still, the semi-sheer fabric did soften the gaunt lines of his leg just a little, and he had to look hard to see the outlines of the scars through the lace.

Erik kissed his knee. “You are.” He slipped the second stocking on, ran his hand down Charles' shin, lingered on his foot, then reached for the pile of ribbons.

“If you put one of those in my hair, I'll make you think you're a five-year-old girl.” Charles' smile was a little tentative.

Erik's wasn't – he flat-out grinned. “Noted.” He took the longest ribbon, looped it around Charles' neck, tied it in a loose bow. Two of the shorter ribbons became bows around Charles' wrists; two more, around his ankles. The last, he knotted carefully into a final bow and pinned it to the front of the panties, right over Charles' cock.

Charles licked his lips, nervous and excited. “Now what?”

Erik smiled at him, tender and sweet and hot as hell. “Now I unwrap you like the gift you are.”

Charles blushed to the waist. God, how he loved this man.

Erik piled pillows against the headboard. “Lie back.”

Charles pulled himself into position, let Erik arrange his legs then pose him with his hands crossed on his chest.

Erik kissed him, slow and deep, then once their lips parted, he asked, “Ready, _Schatz_?”

Charles could only nod breathlessly.

Erik moved to the end of the bed, took out his phone.

Oh, fuck. “Erik. No. Please, no.”

“I want you to see what I see. See how beautiful you are.” Erik clicked the shutter, studied the result, took another, then turned the screen toward Charles.

Good lord, was that really him? Yes, that was the same face that greeted him in the bathroom mirror every morning, but his body seemed transformed.

The skin he'd always dismissed as too fair and far too freckled positively glowed against the deep blues of satin and lace, blues that made his eyes seem bluer, his lips seem more intensely red.

The loopy bow at his throat should have looked ridiculous, but instead looked almost sexy. 

His upper body as a whole wasn't bad. Broad shoulders for his size. Lean muscles. Strong hands, born of necessity. Soft satin shining at each wrist.

He forced himself to look lower, gasped in sudden awareness. The panties, rather than looking absurd, looked downright hot. His cock was clearly outlined inside the cobalt lace, unaroused but not unattractive. The lace accentuated the line of his hips and the flatness of his belly, gave the illusion of normality.

An illusion that would shatter the moment he looked at his legs.

Except it didn't. His legs in the bright blue stockings looked nearly normal, somehow. Slender, but not abnormally so.

He looked up at Erik, away from the photograph, knowing his wonder was written on his face.

Erik's smile was gentle, tender. “Beautiful,” he said again.

Charles couldn't go that far, but still--

Erik set his phone on the nightstand, sat by Charles' ankles, pulled them into his lap. His fingertips danced over Charles' left arch, then he cradled his heel in his palm, lifted it to trail kisses from toes to ankle.

One part of Charles still wanted to cringe at the contact, but most of him thought this was fucking hot. Including – he took a peek – his cock.

Psychogenic erection. A fancy way of saying his cock could get hard when his brain was in the mood. He still couldn't feel it though, damn it.

Erik noticed, a toothy grin spreading on his face. “Don't worry, _Schatz_. I'll get there.”

Ever so slowly, Erik undid the bow around his ankle and set the ribbon aside. Then he kissed from Charles' ankle bone to the lace cuff of the stocking, nipped at Charles' inner thigh. Then he moved to Charles' other ankle and the process began again.

Charles was shaking with need by the time Erik reached for the bow at the front of the lace panties. A part of him wanted to drag Erik up, up to the places he could actually feel, to sate the building hunger before he went mad. Another part of him wished this show would never end.

Erik kissed Charles' cock through the lace, nuzzled the skin between his navel and the lace band of the panties, maddeningly close to where Charles would have felt it. Then he drew the lace down to expose Charles' cock.

He kissed it again, licked at the head, then took it into his mouth. Charles' fingers knotted in the sheets, and his back arched just a little. He couldn't feel Erik's mouth on his cock, but he could see it, and imagination and memory were filling in the blanks, “God, Erik,” he groaned.

Erik made slow, gentle love to Charles' cock as Charles watched, until Charles writhed and sobbed and begged for Erik to touch him where he would actually feel it.

And at last Erik did. He pressed a kiss to Charles' navel, held it there, licked a line up to the center of his chest, sucked and nipped at one nipple, then the other, blew gently across the damp, sensitive skin.

Charles moaned. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Erik's fingers found the bow at his throat and loosed it, the slither of satin against his heated skin a sensual torment. Then Erik's lips replaced the satin, nipping and nuzzling up his throat, across his jaw, along the curve of his ear.

The slow build reached crescendo, Erik's warm breath against his ear the final nudge that sent him tumbling over the precipice, yielding to the inexorable waves of sensation, losing himself in pleasure.

When he could think again, he looked at Erik, who met his gaze, love shining in his aqua eyes. _You're the best._

Erik smiled softly, took Charles' hands, pressed a kiss to one beribboned wrist, then the other. “And you're beautiful.”

This time, Charles was able to believe him.


End file.
